


Child's Play

by PastelWonder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A ludicrous amount of fucking, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, But also loose plot because PastelWonder, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, D A R K, Daddy Kylo Ren, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dominant Armitage Hux, Double Penetration, Father figure to Lover x2, Fingering, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, Greedy Rey-baby, Intense Kylo Ren, Light BDSM, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Papa Armitage Hux, Sith Rey, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: Rey of Niima finds peace lies in the tender space between discipline and devotion.--Or sometimes, three's company, too.





	1. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand. For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azera/gifts).



> This work is for Azera-baby. She keeps feeding my badKylo habit : )
> 
> Feel amazing, Az.
> 
> Also.
> 
> Darling. Sugar bear. Love o' mine. You gotta read the tags, okay? I did my part creating them. And *believe me*, if you have not tagged a work in Archive before, it is a pain. in. the ass. Now it's your turn. This is a romantic, underage sex story feat. the son of Darkness, a rabid cur, and a Sith-baby. If this isn't what you're looking for, I invite you to hit that back button to find more works to your taste.
> 
> <3

Her Master came on a dark, breathless night.

 _Ren_ , she called him, after he found her chained and caged like a dog to the floor of Unkar Plutt’s stall. The youngest child of seven, too small and weak to work in her parent’s freight yard, she was sold for ten credits and a quart of juniper-gin.

 _“Hout chu’wa,”_ her Da had slurred at Plutt through the chain gate over the stall window, holding the counter and holding the ulcer in his side. He wouldn’t look at her where she stood next to him with wet, frightened eyes.

_Honest work only._

A reptile grin was Plutt’s only reply.

Rey was six years old.

Ren’s escort landed three years later with a sound like the world wrenching apart.

She jolted awake in time to see a beast as big as a Great Dune and dressed like Death roaring inside the doorway of Plutt’s shack. With a sword made of light and fire, he reared back and cleaved her bad master in half. Then he strained out one massive black hand and crushed the stall guard’s windpipe without ever touching the man’s neck.

 _Dimka’bu,_ her pounding heart whispered as she pressed herself back into the corner of her cage.

_Dark magic._

The beast ripped the face off her kennel then hunkered down on the floor of the filthy stall.

His face was terrifying. As white as night worms, with the features of a buzzard. His mouth was wide and sensual, wet at its seam. His lips glistened under the blury wreath of white light from the helium lamp on Plutt's desk. She’d never seen anything like him on Jakku, where the sun baked hides brown and bleached hair light. He was so massive, he could kill her with just one blow.

He coaxed her out with deep murmurs and soft clicks of his tongue.

She held trembling as he seared apart the shackle that bound her to the floor with only a pass of his black-gloved finger.

_More dark magic._

When it fell away, she hissed and recoiled, cowering close to the mouth of her kennel with her knees tucked up against her chest. Her toes peeked out warily beneath the hem of her soiled shift. She hid her face from him.

But he did not reach for her. Instead, he rested one moon-sized hand on his thigh and braced its brother by his feet on the floor.

 _“Chumu, shou Dimka. Shh-shh, nande cho bu’wa,”_ he spoke in Jakkuvian, the language she knew best. His voice rumbled like thunder. It was like no other sound she’d ever heard before. Dangerous.

But soft.

_Hello, small Dark. Shh-shh, don’t be afraid._

He looked deep into her large, suspicious eyes and smiled. He whispered, “ _Mo_ _shen Ben.”_

 _“R- Ren,”_ she tried to mimic him. There was no sound in Jakkuvian for his name, and she spoke very little as it was.

He smiled another terrible, beautiful smile. “ _Hai-yo, Ben. Shen’tu?”_

 _“Rey,”_ she croaked, hugging herself tighter.

 _“Rey,”_ no one had ever spoken her name so gently.

No one had bowed to her, neither, but he did. His head dipped so low the soft leer of the lamp made a halo on his night-blue hair.

Quickly, so that she didn’t have to take her eyes off him at all, she bobbed back.

He laughed.

The quiet boom startled her. She scrambled halfway into her kennel.

 _“Donno, mila. Donno-“_ he held up his hand.

_Forgive me, sweetheart. Forgive me-_

She swallowed. The wire floor of her cage bit into her knees.

Outside, there was crack, violent and sudden, like the white-light that whipped down from the sky sometimes and made glass in the sand. It was followed by man shouts and the groaning of metal. A rumble shook the shack.

She flinched deeper into her kennel.

 _“Rey,”_ he called her gaze back calmly, quietly, away from the caged window. The night had begun to glow orange. _“Tu wamme oh’to yaht?”_

_Would you like to leave this place?_

She shook her head violently.

 _“Nande-“_ her rasp caught on the drought that sealed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. It hurt her cracked lips to form words.

Slowly, so that she could track his movements, he drew a flask from the side panel in his strange quilted coat. She smelled its contents as soon as he unthreaded the lid.

_Water._

Pure and crisp and sweet.

He held it out to the mouth of her cage, shook it so that the water sloshed.

She snatched and gulped greedily, head tipped back, throat bobbing, not thinking in that moment what act she’d have to do for him for such a precious favor. Not caring as finally, _finally,_ her thirst was quenched. She gulped until it was empty, then she shook out every last drop onto her tongue.

He watched her face with a tender smile, black eyes glittering inside the dark.

Only once she was sure she’d finished all of it, she closed her eyes and let out a satisfied little belch.

His grin widened.

 _“Nande,”_ she repeated softly, lashes flickering. She wiped her mouth on her bare, dirt-streaked arm. Slaked for the first time in her life, she found a second longing waiting behind her thirst.

_Sleep._

Maybe after this man finished with her, she could lay down and close her eyes.

Her hand cupped her belly to guard the water that sloshed there, cool and filling and wet. _“Ti’ko mo summi wat-wat.”_

_I wait here for my family._

_“Mila,”_ he shifted so that she would track him.

Her eyes were hooded.

Again, he smiled. His black leather hand touched his chest. “ _Mo’su tu wat-wat.”_

_I am your family._

More distant man shouts filled the lull that stretched between them. The red glare outside the window was growing brighter. Her heart thudded dully. She cocked her head, chapped lips parted, and studied him under the bronze, shifting glow.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen her reflection. But she knew her skin was darker than his, her hair not so black. Tentatively, she touched her nose, tracing its shape with her fingertip, mapping it against his.

 _“Tu’sa mo wat-wat?”_ she piped doubtfully.

He nodded with another ghost of a smile. The lights in his glittering eyes seemed to dance. _“Hai-yo.”_

_“Tu… tu’sa mo kylo?”_

_You’re my brother?_

_“Dai-ho,”_ he nodded slowly, looking calmly into her eyes, _“Nande no’kura mo, shou Dimka?”_

_Of course. Don’t you know me, little Dark?_

She didn’t know if it was his deep, dark stare, or his voice, or the strangeness of his features that made her lean on her hands and knees out of her kennel to peer more closely up into his face. Even crouched low, he was a great dune. And she a grain of sand.

He held perfectly still.

They watched each other for a long time.

 _“Hai-yo,”_ she breathed finally.

He opened his mouth to speak.

 _“Supreme Leader,”_ a man stepped suddenly into the doorway of the shack.

No, not a man. A _creature._

Ten million leagues long, cloaked all in black like the maws of the titan ships her bad master’s junk slaves salvaged. Except for his face, which was white as the night moon. Sharp and skeletal, it was a sun-bleached skull. The hair on its scalp _burned_ like true fire. But what terrified her most was its eyes.

They were colorless blue, like the Javvukian skies. A cruel, seething, searing blue-white.

Her heart choked her. She threw herself back into her kennel and screamed.

_“Gin’bu! Gin’bu!”_

_Bad spirit!_

_“Hey hey, ch’lak, ch’lak,”_ the magic man, Ren, tried to soothe her, _“Qwue’sa. Calm down-”_

The Gin’bu in the doorway kept speaking. Its voice was eerie, guttural and harsh. She had no idea what it said.

_“Niima is burning. We need to go.”_

It looked at her over Ren’s shoulder. Its blue eyes smoldered in the dark. _“Good Lord, is that her? What the Devil have they done to her? Savages-”_ it spat onto the floor of the stall, making her shriek and scrabble at the back of her kennel.

It stepped back out into the night, burnished by the blaze now consuming the canteen across the road from Plutt’s shack, so that its profile glowed luminous, translucent.

It roared, _“Execute them all!”_

She screamed and screamed and screamed more.

 _“Ch’lak, Rey, qwue’sa!”_ Ren raised his voice to speak over her bleating. He also raised his hand, _“Qwue’sa, kira-mo…”_

_Easy, Rey, be calm. Be calm, sister…_

She felt her soul slipping away from her body, dragging her with it into a false sleep.

_Dark magic._

But if she slept, the Gin’bu would devour her.

She reached with straining, wavering fingers. _“Kylo… kylo-Ren…”_

 _“Shh-shh,”_ he caught her falling in slow-motion into his arms. His voice rumbled in the same strange, guttural language as the Gin’s.

But she felt no fear.

 _“Hush,”_ he stood as her soul fell through her down into the darkness, _“We’re going home.”_


	2. Well she's all you'd ever want / She's the kind I like to flaunt and take to dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just slap that backstory up there Pastel, why donchu?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The challenge of writing a Ben-positive fic when you are in fact queen of the Antis.
> 
> *rolls eyes at self*

She was stark naked when she woke.

The first thing she noticed was a soft gurgling sound near her feet. Then the sensation of something cool dragging slowly, smoothly down her skin.

 _Water,_ more than the night moon could ever make her dream of.

Her small body gleamed beneath the bright, sterile lights.

It was too stark to see much around her, only the outlines of machine shapes inside the largest room she’d ever stood in. And-

 _“Chumu, mila.”_ It was the beast, kylo-Ren.

He loomed like the shadow of a titan ship, wreathed all in white backdrop and harsh clinical light. His clothes were so dark, like the blackness of the lampless nights she spent inside Plutt’s stall, crouched inside her cage on a bed of filthy rags. His face looked even more terrifying, more feral in this wihite room without the savagery of her homeworld surrounding them. And his eyes-

Those black, sparkling eyes.

She drew back shivering into the strange glass cradle she stood in.

He crouched.

The bones inside his knees popped. Hunkered down, he was still boulder, but also a bit like the toads that dug themselves deep into the shadowed sand to hide from the blistering midday sun. It made him… human.

Softer.

They were eye-to-eye as he lifted a cloth dwarfed inside his mammoth grasp. As he draped it behind her shoulders, it swamped her in lush, fragrant warmth. He folded its excess over her front to cover her nakedness.

 _“Tu’sa jiou korosho, mila?”_ He spoke very quietly.

_Did you sleep well, sweetheart?_

She held onto the thick terry by its false collar and hid her face behind it up to the pointed tip of her nose. The ends of her hair dripped cool wet on her neck and on her forehead, but the rest of her was cozy and warm as she nodded.

The beast smiled without parting his thick, pink lips. _“Koro. Tu wamme bo’kukura?”_

_Good. Are you hungry?_

Again, she nodded, watching him always with her large, suspicious eyes.

The men who came to Plutt’s shack never fed her. Plutt himself gave her just enough portions to keep the floating lights out of her eyes and the shake off her fingers. Even still, her stomach had always churned, longing bitterly for more.

But already, this man- her brother- had given her water to drink and washed her clean. Her skin sang from the strange whirl of the capsule waters. The rashes that marred the tender insides of her too-thin thighs from harsh mountings with every kind of man-creature known to the Galaxy had healed, her rough knuckles and knees and cracked lips felt smooth and soft. Her eyes, which were always milky with grit and the strain of damp lamplight, saw clearly. Her throat did not ache from thirst.

For all this, kylo Ren must want a great favor. Or many, many usual ones.

She swallowed, heart thudding fearfully as she tried to imagine it. He was so huge…

Something swooped over the surface of her thoughts, like the shadow of a vulture. She felt it because it was cold. An icy sigh soaring silently beneath her scalp.

 _“Nande,”_ the beast said softly. He shook his head. The stars in his dark eyes had stopped dancing. _“Tu bu’sa yah ah’mact yaht, kaylaay.”_

_No. You don’t have to do that here, baby._

_“Wei?”_ she asked, eyes narrowing. She searched his face for the lie.

_Why?_

_“Wei’da-”_

_Because-_

He took her small, slender shoulders in his massive hands, making her flinch and tremble harder.

His lips rolled. He swallowed. _“Wo’su tu wat-wat. Wo sai’ai aat tu’nee.”_

_I am your family. I take care of you now._

Her eyes stung. Pain pricked like the cruel nose of a needle at her heart.

 _“M’wongo,”_ she accused him.

_Liar._

He smirked without malice as he stood, seeming to unfold forever up towards the lights. He held out his hand. _“Wo’tu kyika.”_

_We’ll see._

 

 

 

 

_“Summi?”_ she breathed with what breath hadn’t been stolen from her lungs. Her little mouth gaped open. She could hardly keep her eyes inside her head or her tongue inside her mouth.

Spread out on a table the breadth of two men lying feet-to-head and as long as the main street in Niima, was more food than she knew was in all the Galaxy. Some she could barely recognize, others the night moon had never given her in her wildest dreams. Glistening hunks of brown meats wafting mouth-watering steam off their skins, plump wedges of soft, pale cheese, fragrant pots of clear soups and thick stews, baskets and baskets of round and knotted and braided breads baked gold and bathed in butter-glaze, and piles upon piles of grown things heaped inside wooden bowls and overflowing platters. Fruits and plants of every shape and color, whole and halved and peeled and stewed, all glistening like jewel treasure under the gentle warm-toned light of this heaven place Ren called, _die-kneeing room._

Her whole body tingled with light, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes tucked snug as beetle bugs inside her new black boots. She wanted to rake all this good-good to her chest and hug it tight. She wanted to hide it against her soaring, bursting heart.

What master was so rich he owned all the food in the Galaxy? Maybe he was a _Bata’ah._

A big god.

She looked back at him over her little shoulder, now covered in the same quilted cloth his dark coat was made out of. Her clean hair was combed and parted down the middle, plaited into two three-stranded braids. Forearms braced on top of the table, her skinny legs dressed in solid black tights dangled down from the weight of her new boots. She too short to touch the floor. Her small lips were slick with greedful spit. Her eyes gleamed like wet gold.

The room was so massive he seemed to stand a whole league away. His arms thicker than her middle were crossed over his titan chest, one big shoulder propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankle. The stars were again dancing inside his eyes.  

 _“Hai-yo,”_ he nodded once, smiling another of his strange close-lipped smile.

Like a snake’s, but kind.

_“Summi.”_

_All of it._

She beamed back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were on a ship, she realized hours later, as she followed him down another long corridor with her whole hand inside his palm.

She watched carefully the steps her boots made on the dark, glossy tiles that reflected back the lights in the high ceilings as rings of blue-white.

The boots were heavy, and she had been barefoot all her life.

It made her feel stupid, not realizing sooner that this was a titan ship. She could not remember flying, though she knew she had before, with Matma and Dadu and her brothers and sisters. She had sailed across the Galaxy.

At least, that was what she pretended in her sundreams.

She had seen the titan ships that the salvagers hauled to Plutt’s scrapyard. She knew their look and their sound. That was what tipped her off, as the rich, warm food settled in her belly, stretching her sweetly and making her lashes droop. The low, lulling _huu-uuu-uuu-uum… huu-uuu-uuu-uum…_ of its gear parts whirring deep inside the hull.

It made her thoughts drift like sparkling particles against the red-purple light of the setting sun. Only yesterday, she had watched the dust dazzle at twilight through the bars of her cage and the chained gate over Plutt’s stall window. At least, she thought it was yesterday. The beast’s magic made it hard to tell time.

Her sex had stung and her body had ached and her belly had burned with hunger. Now she was slaked, swollen and full. Gleaming clean and dressed warmly in the finest clothes she’d ever laid eyes on.

Her brother led her into the last room on the hall.

In most ways it was like all the others in this part of the ship. Cavernous and low-lit, with glowing black floors and matte dark-paneled walls. A ceiling so high she couldn’t touch it if she climbed forever. And cold.

Everywhere inside the ship was lavishly, deliciously cold.

What made this room different was the enormous pelt from an animal she did not recognize stretched out smoothly along the floor at the foot of a bed so massive she was sure every man and beast in Niima could sleep on it. There were tables on either side, lit above by wall lamps that gave off a softer, yellower light. On one was a chronometer and a stack of small rectangular objects she’d never seen before. They looked strange inside the dark, sleek surroundings. They were old and made seemingly of cloth.

The man Ren went to that table and took off his sword, which he wore always on his hip, and laid it beside the hard-cloth rectangles. Beside that, he put his gloves.

Her heart tripped. Her throat went dry and tight.

As soundless as she could, she slunk around the bed to hide by the other table. On its surface was a glass pitcher filled with water and long, green stems anchored to a kind of lush, delicate bloom. As fat as her palm, with layer after overlapping layer of furled, fragile petals. Some white, others softly pink.

Their beauty hurt her. She wanted to rip them and smash the pitcher across the dark tiles. She wanted to hold them like innocent babies to her heart.

Her tears dripped and glittered on the petals beneath the warm light as she bent and pecked gentle kisses to their faces.

 _“Shi’ga maua,”_ his deep rumble came from the foot of the bed. His black eyes shone even brighter in the dark.

 _M’bwa,_ she thought, heart racing in her throat. _Wolf._

 _“A’tu,”_ he finished with a gesture.

_Moon pearls. For you._

Her mouth trembled. She wanted to curl up and hide. _“Wei?”_

 _“Wei’da,”_ his voice, like his deep stare, never wavered, _“tu’sa mo kira. Mo kaylaay. Tu’sa oujo wa.”_

 _Because_ _you are my sister. My baby. You belong to me._

Her face crumpled. She snorted, slapping viciously her tears off her cheeks.  _Cruel wolf. Bad man. Dark magic._

 _“M’wongo,”_ she hissed, _“Wo nan’jou kylo. Nan’jou dadu. Jou atta mo.”_

_Liar. I don’t have a brother. I don’t have a father. I have only myself._

She flinched violently at the quiet _click_ of Ren’s sword belt. In her mind’s eye, Plutt’s hand came down to strike her where she squirmed crying on her chain and on his cock. _Hold still, ya little bitch, or I’ll break yer neck-_

The room’s cold felt like death now. This beast was twice her bad master’s size. He could kill her with one mean thrust.

Numbly, shaking like the posts of her shack when Ren’s ship set down beside it with roaring turbines, she forced herself to walk the length of the bed and kneel down at his feet.

Her chest clenched painfully, she breathed in jagged, hysterical fits and starts. Her small hands juddered up the muscular flex of his broad, solid thighs on their way to his fly. Maybe if she offered him her mouth-

He caught her wrists inside his huge paws.

 _“Nande, mila,”_ his face, whiter than the full moon, hovered over her. His love shone down. _“Nande. Bu’sa ya, kaylaay. Bu’sa.”_

_No, sweetheart. Don’t do that, baby. Don’t._

Her breath snared. She choked on the rawness as a sob broke her throat. _“Kylo-”_

He caught and lifted her as easily as if she was dust particles. As if she was not used, rotted flesh and maggot bones.

As if she was pure light.

He peeled her out of her boots and her new coat and redressed her in a soft shift made of fine dark linen. Then he took off his own clothes and drew on sleeping pants of the same gentle fabric.

The shift, she realized, was his. They wore the two halves of the same whole.

Slipping into his titan bed, he gathered her to him, the way the mothers of Niima who walked by her stall window clutched their precious babies inside their arms. Tightly, without a sliver of space between them.

 _“Shhh, qwue’sa, Rey. Mila-”_ he laid them down in a cool nest of thick blankets and smooth, slick sheets that smelled like soap and moon pearl petals. Chastely, he kissed the part in her hair. _“Ch’lak. Bi tu matcho.”_

_Close your eyes._

Her tiny fingers twined deep inside his blue-black mane as she tucked her face into the well made for her by his neck and his shoulder. So that in sleep, she could feel if this beast, this good-good brother, tried to abandon her.

She feared the night moon would make her dream him away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they woke, he dressed her in another new coat and tights. Which was ludicrous, because she had hardly worn the other ones.

 _“Sisi kylo,”_ she called him.

_Silly brother._

In her all life, she had never met a man like him. True, his _dimka’bu,_ his dark magic, hung always in the air around him, like a shroud. It crackled, invisible but cold, whenever his skin touched hers. His wolf-eyes danced, even when there was no light to reflect in them.

But new master was no devil-man. She felt his goodness way down in her bones.

After another feast as big as the first one, they went on an adventure. His ship was a maze of crescent-shaped lift bays and wide, straight corridors that stretch on forever, one into the next. He took her to a thing called a _turbolift_ , a small bright coffin used for killing little girl-children with fear.

It lurched then _zrrooomed_ when it started, making her heart squeeze and her legs shake and her belly roil so high she tasted her breakfast in the back of her throat. She clung to him in fear as they rocketed up and screeched when they abruptly hurtled right.

 _“Par’qwua! Par’qwua!”_ she begged screaming, wringing the long, split panels of his coat.

_Stop!_

He slammed the control board with the heel of his hand so hard its plexiplastic cracked and folded inward. But it was too late-

As soon as the doors were open, she stumbled out into the lift bay and threw up her precious food all over the glossy tile floor.

She sobbed over the loss for a full five minutes, heart-wrecked and furious as Ren forced her to stand trembling between his knees where he hunkered down in the corridor well away from her sick. His moon-hand rubbed soothing circles into her little back as, arms wrapped tightly around his thick treacherous neck, she shook from the grief and the shock.

 _“Bu’tsoa, Kylo!”_ she scolded him, hiccupping against his shoulder and wrenching his long, beautiful hair she wound around her fingers at his nape, _“Bu’tsoa! Nande wamme otta!”_

_Bad Kylo, bad! No go again!_

His big white beak nuzzled softly at her temple.

 _“Donno, mila,”_ he murmured in her ear. His warm breath buzzed down her spine. He kissed her neck, her hair, her shoulder. The corner of her mouth, _“Att’cho-”_

A metal paper crinkled at his breast.

She peeked from the crook of his neck to see the little foil packet he held pinched inside his black gloved hand.

 _“Peecho?”_ she warbled hopefully.

_Portion?_

_“Hai-yo,”_ his big, soft lips _smooched_ gently at her cheek.

She snatched greedily, tears cooling as they dripped off her lashes when she blinked. She tore through the wrapper with her teeth.

The ration was rich and thick. Sweet-tasting.

Her flushed, wet cheeks bunched as she beamed and chirped through a mouthful spraying crumbs, _“Cha’cho!”_

_Thank you!_

She forgave him.

He grinned and kissed her again, holding her tiny waist between his hands. Then he unfolded, spanning ever upwards so that she had to tip back to keep looking up into his dancing night-black eyes.

He held out his hand. _“Juu-juu.”_

_Let’s go._

The walk was long in her new boots, their surroundings tedious and eerily dark. Hallway after hallway lit in two rows above by circular moon-white lights set into the ceiling that reflected in the black mirrored floors. It made her think of snake eyes and their long, flickering tongues.

They passed many strangers, both man-kin and beasts dressed as man-kin who could speak, as well as featureless drones the size of her master that walked like men but did so with bantha-steps that pounded the floor and rattled the paneled walls. Their armor gleamed pure, violent white. And small droids too beeped past them, chirping irritably as they roved their round black bodies and looked all around themselves with mean-looking infralights.

Whenever these travelers saw her and her master, they would stop to greet them in a way she’d never seen before. Their bodies turned to statues, their eyes or their dark visors stared straight ahead at the walls. Even the small droids stopped rolling and revolved themselves into a strange parody of this posture, _wheep_ ing shrilly as they did.

Then, just as she and her master drew level with them, the statue-men would strike at their heart with their fist and shout out-

_“Hail Lord Vader!”_

Each time it happened, she winced and pressed closer to Ren, hiding her face from them in his surcoat. _Especially_ from the white-walkers. Those mammoth drones that glowed like stars and wore no grins.

 _“Ch’lak, mila,”_ Ren coaxed her with yet another of his close-lipped smile. They were approaching a titan set of interlocking doors.

They loomed ahead like a closed jaw at the widening end of the corridor. Her heart skittered into a race as she tried to imagine what was on the other side.

His black eyes sparkled down her as he told her, _“Ta’mun tu shujaa.”_

_They are your-_

_“Shujaa?”_ her forehead crinkled. She did not know that word.

 _“Mm…”_ he thought for a moment, guiding her ever-closer to the titan doors with his slow, shortened gait, _“Ta’mun tu… watum’wa faat.”_

 _“Watum’waa faat?”_ she repeated piping, head tilting like a little bird’s as she peered doubtfully up at his profile. Perhaps her master did not know her language so well after all. Because _watum’waa faat_ meant-

_Battle slaves._

How could she, a cockwarmer, own battle slaves?

With the _whirr-hiiisssh_ of hydraulic springs, the titan doors suddenly drew smoothly apart.

Her eyes widened with them as they opened. Her belly dropped tingling into her toes.

 _“Par’qwua-”_ she grasped the wrist of the moon-hand that held hers captive and dug in her heels at the giveless tile.

Her kylo was dragging her to her death.

 _“Nande! Par’qwua, Kylo!”_ she shook her head so hard her plaits whipped her face.

Smirking, he stooped and lifted her up onto his hip.

The cavern beyond the titan doors was _massive_ , greater than the spanning Bad Lands, greater than any place she knew of, on Jakku or anywhere else. It was taller than a Star Destroyer stood up on its end, truly there were Star Destroyers inside the hull, idling in bays against its far, far wall. There were also AT-Walkers, hundreds of them, dangling limp from retracted steel arms on the wall behind them on either side of the titan doors. Higher up the walls and everywhere along the ceiling, so high she had to squint before she recognized what they were, TIE Fighters hung like great black bats with winking green eyes and gleaming cockpit skulls.

At the other end of this mammoth, ferocious kingdom of glinting steel and battle bots, was a wall made entirely of _space_.

Star-pricked darkness, so thick and real it seemed to push in on them. Or maybe, it was pulling her closer.

It struck her that moment like a vicious kick to the gut that she was not on Jakku anymore. She was alone, adrift inside a spaceship with a new, unknown master. A dark magic-man with a snake smile and starlight dancing in his black wolf eyes.

But even that was not the most terrifying truth inside the hanger.

On the diamond-bright, corrugated steel floor, were thousands – _thousands_ – of white-walker drones. Maybe even _jillions_ of them _._ They stalled in endless, ever-stretching rows spanning the hull forwards and back.

At their heart on a dais were a dozen badmen dressed all in black. Some wore strange, formal uniforms with gold and colored metals stuck onto their chests. Still others were dressed like her master, in long black surcoats. They were hooded and masked. Their _dimka’bu_ furled off their bodies like night-smoke.

_Reapers._

And in the center of them all was the creature she remembered from two nights ago on Jakku. Even now, it was taller than all the rest. Its hair _burned_ , though there was no fire behind it, Its blue eyes were watching her too close.

_Gin’bu!_

Her heart tried to dig itself out of her body. Her master was going to feed her to it, while the white-walker drones and the reapers and the strange men with metal chests all watched.

She started to scream and thrash. _“Nande, kylo! Nande!”_

 _“She believes I am an evil spirit,”_ the Gin’bu spoke calmly to the others on dais in its brute language as her master climbed the steps.

It was obvious from the way the men and the reapers stopped speaking to one another and watched it that the Gin’bu controlled them all. Even her master seemed lower than it somehow.

_“When the Jakku natives sell their children to slavers, they tell the others their sibling was taken by a predatory ghost who feasts on the hearts of misbehaving boys and girls. They describe them as skeletons with burning skulls.”_

_“Why, sir?”_ garbled on of the reapers.

The Gin’bu made a wry side-smile that did not touch its eyes. _“Because the first slavers to trade children in our Galaxy were Arkanian. My ancestors-”_

It gestured gracefully to its slicked-down mane.

 _“Hux,”_ her master greeted it at the top of the dais. He dragged her gently off his shoulder in a two-pawed grip.

 _“Nande, Kylo! Bu’tsoa! Bu’tsoa!”_ She clung and squirmed and kicked fiercely, desperately, showing him and the Gin’bu all her teeth. She wound her hands into his hair and around his collar so that he had to bend over to set her down. Her legs folded her. She refused to bear her own weight.

Every movement, every gesture the Gin’bu made was so fluid, like water pouring cup to cup as it crossed its fist over its breast and bowed to them. _“Lord Vader.”_

It looked straight at her and bowed again. _“My lady.”_

 _“Bu’tsoa!”_ she flapped her finger at it while still shrinking against her master’s neck.

The men on the dais laughed at her, until the Gin’bu raised its hand.

She thought she might be sick again. Her master folded her trembling body in his arms.

 _“Maybe it’s too soon,”_ he hedged at the Gin’bu in their foreign language.

 _“Nonsense,”_ the Gin’bu spoke. _“Young lady-”_ it clicked its fingers sharply, startling her.

She looked up into its eyes.

 _“Wo mai’su Gin’bu,”_ elegantly, it touched its chest. On its lips was a ghostly smile. _“Wo su_ gendo _.”_

_I am no Gin’bu. I am a-_

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her master kneeling next to her smirked.

 _“Gendo?”_ she piped.

_Dog?_

_“Hai-yo,”_ it nodded.

Slowly, so that she could track its movements, it raised its gloved hands and cupped them to make two black leather ears on either side of its skull.

She quirked her head and wrinkled her nose.

It mirrored her, craning its neck as quietly it said, _“Woof.”_

Her master sniggered. The men and the reapers did not.

Its blue eyes sparkled down at her. There was something mesmerizing inside them, tantalizing her beyond her fear. Maybe _this_ was how Gin'bu lured children away into the desert.

With its beauty.

Still, she cupped her ears on her head and tentatively _woof_ ed back.

It smiled.

Her heart skipped its next beat.

 _“Va’lesh-la,”_ it called her, _little goddess,_ folding its hands benignly behind its back. It lilted its chin, peering down at her with a conspiratorial gleam in its clearful eyes as it asked, _“Tu’sa wamme ja’hou Raja-ne?”_

_Would you like to be a Queen?_

_“Wo-me?”_ she pointed at her belly.

_Me?_

_“Yes,”_ it answered in its guttural language. Then it knelt at her feet.

Its dark cape pooled all around it. It offered her its black-gloved hand. _“Come, va’lesh-la. I shall make you one. Then you may rule over us all. How would you like that?”_

She looked questioningly at her master. His black mane was still twisted in her hands.

 _“Cho-cho, mila,”_ he told her, _go on._ His eyes were smiling. He kissed her sweetly on the mouth. _“Cho.”_

Tentatively, she stepped away from his black mass.

For a moment she wavered between them, the wolf with bad-magic and the Gin’bu with fire hair and violent blue eyes. Their big, long bodies cocooned her, sheltering out the men and the reapers and the white-walkers and the battle bots.

They exchanged sly smiles over her shoulder when finally, she took the Gin’bu’s hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Its den was many miles away from the hanger.

It did not insist they take the turbolift after she clutched its cloak and begged it to spare her. When her tiny feet grew tired, it lifted her and tucked her neatly against its hip.

The gendo-Gin’bu was very different from her master. Graceful and slender. But strong. Like durasteel cable, able to tether a Tie Fighter back with just one strand.

She laid her cheek on its shoulder and watched transfixed through her lashes as the sweeping lights above them changed its hair from fire to gold. It had a warm scent, clean but sharp like sweet cooking spices. Its skin was smooth and perfectly white.

Her heart thudded dully against her breast as she studied it.

It was the most beautiful nightmare she had ever dreamed.

Its lair was dark and immaculate. It set her down in a soft leather chair across from a great black lacquer desk. It sat itself on the other side in an even larger leather chair, propping its elbows on the arms and steepling its fingertips.

She mimicked it.

They watched one another for a long time.

Until finally, it spoke.

 _“My name is Grand Marshal Hux,”_ it touched its chest. It pale lips twitched into a sharp, self-deprecating smirk. _“Lord Vader has asked me to be your governess, as it were. A high honor, undoubtedly. Tell me, little one-”_

It came forward, lacing its leather fingers and resting them on the desk, _“What do you make of that?”_

She cocked her head and looked at it slyly over the tips of her fingers beneath her lashes.

 _“Mee nam-may isu Gee Marsha Hux.”_ She sat up and puffed out her chest. _“Hahlee Lore Vahdor! Tee-bo-liff bad bad.”_

She tapped her heart, _“Gee Marsha Rey.”_

She threaded her own fingers together and smacked them onto the desk. She had to scootch to the edge of her seat to lean over them. Her little booted feet dangled above the floor. _“Gee Marsha Gingen-”_

Its blueful eyes glittered. It inclined his head.

 _“Hahlee Lore Rey,”_ she finished.

Silence settled between them like silt falling to the bottom of a glass.

Finally, it took a deep breath through its nostrils and sat back. It laid its laced fingers upon its chest.

 _“Oh yes,”_ its pleased smile made electricity crackle warmly in her gut, _“You will do quite well.”_

She grinned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“We have something to show you, do we not, Lady Rey?”_

It was evening, and she was hungry, and very tired.

But determined to show off.

Her Gingen was standing in his elegant longcloak inside her master’s foyer, his hands folded benignly behind his back.

Wolf eyes sparkling down at her, Ren crossed his arms over his chest. His lips twitched to hide a smile. He gestured, _“Chogo-me.”_

_Show me._

She stepped forward, level with Gingen, her little lip caught between her teeth. Her fingers played nervously with each other.

Gingen touched her shoulder. His murmur was tender, whisper-soft. _“Go on, then. How do we begin?”_

She took a breath, then thrust out her hand. _“H-hello, kylo.”_

Ren smiled. His moon hand swallowed hers whole. _“Hello, mila.”_

 _“My na-name is Lay-dee Rey,”_ she tried to shake, but his hand was so heavy she had to use two of her own. _“How wery nie-soo meechu.”_

 _“How very… nice… to meet… you,”_ Gingen showed her slowly.

 _“H-how wery nicccce… to meet you,”_ she shook Ren’s hand again, _“How you do?”_

 _“How_ do _you do,”_ Gingen corrected.

But it did not matter, as Ren gave her a beam so big it split her heart.

He grasped her by her tiny waist and hoisted her high into the air.

 _“She’s a genius!”_ he cawed, spinning her around.

The lights blurred like water as her lashes turned soft and wet. She made a sound she’d never heard from herself before.

Later, Gingen would tell her it was _to laugh aloud._

Heart swelling, she struggled to wrap her legs around Ren as he settled her on his hip and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

_“Kami, kaylaa. Kami.”_

_Perfect, baby. Perfect._

_“Gingen!”_ she called out to him with her head on Ren’s shoulder. He had just turned to leave.

He looked back at her with those calm, cool blue eyes. _“Yes, my lady?”_

_“Pissu-pissu.”_

_Kiss-kiss._

She touched her fingers to her lips then waved to him.

Ren laughed.

Gingen inclined his head, _“Until tomorrow then.”_

_Six years later…._

“Hai, Gingen, go hurry - or we be late.”

Where he leaned elegantly over his desk, the handsome Grand Marshall straightened.

He looked like something out of a night-story. His red hair shone ferociously. He wore only white.

She was dressed like all Darksiders, cloaked in midnight. Black surcoat, black boots, black tights. Her own sable hair Ren had braided into a four-stranded braid. It hung to her waist down her back.

 _“We’re going to see the ocean,”_ Ren told her before he kissed her this morning in bed. Her small body still trembled from their sex beneath his bigger one, his hot breath had bathed her in warmth.

Ahch-to was an island, he explained to her between soft kisses to her skin while they dressed. In an unknown region. Lightyears away from Base.

How strange it was that she had never been there.

When she had dreamed of it since she was small-small.

“Young lady,” her Gingen made his scolding soft. His white-blue eyes glimmered like sand under hot sun.

He lilted his chin. “Whatever have I told you about shouting indoors?”

“ _Please you go hurry, Gingen_ ,” she bark-whispered back at him. Inside his doorway, she wrung her hands and scissored her thighs.

Her body _burned_ with excitement.

“I have been accused of many crimes in my life,” the Grand Marshall was working on his pale gloves. “Tardiness is not among them.”

Quick as a knife-flash, she snicked across the dark tile and wormed herself inside his stance. Their bodies touched, she ringed her small arms around his neck.

“My my,” he murmured as his steel gaze grazed her mouth.

Her heart battered her ribs, cunny aching at the good feeling of his hard chest pressed through their soft layers against her small breasts.

 _“Nai-mo._ Don't mad to me, Gingen,” she sounded breathless, like a little child, even as she played in what she hoped was a coyful way with a strand of hair beside his ear. His expression remained guarded as he watched her down the length of his nose. The look in his cold blue eyes made heat rush down the neck of her surcoat until her breasts burned hot. “Today is being very good day.”

“Yes. It is a very special day, Your Majesty,” he agreed.

He _did_ love her; it was in the way he looked at her. How he spoke.

Too carefully, as if she were the tripwire on a hydrogen bomb, he worked himself away.

His eyes ceased to gleam as he asked coolly, “Did you remember your mask?”

“ _Hai-yo_ ,” she nodded dully. She ducked her head to hide her ache. “I put in my sack.”

“Then shall we?”

If he knew she was disappointed, he did not show it on his bone-white face as he motioned to the door.

Her ribs hurt, something dark and lonely was swelling them apart. For _months_ now she had been trying to get him to-

 _Nawaime,_ she scolded herself.

_Forget it._

She drew her shoulders back. Lifted her chin.

Nothing could spoil this day for her. The day Ren Solo killed Luke Skywalker.

And made her Master of the Knights of Ren.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been taking a break from fanfiction to work on an original novel. But the comments for this work be like, "PASTEL! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, NOW!"
> 
> And I had most of this sitting on my drive.
> 
> Pastel: *writes some of the most compelling Reyux fics of our time*  
> Readers: Whaddu we want? KYLO! When do want him? NOW!
> 
> -_-

**Author's Note:**

> Your kudos and comments keep me going <3
> 
> Let's play together on Tumblr: https://royramsey.tumblr.com/


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